Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  Could she even save herself?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  KNOX ENJOYED CARS—metal animals capable of great speeds. In Iviland, everyone traveled on foot, or in carts that ran on tracks. But there was something he enjoyed more than cars. Observing Vale. She sat in the seat next to his, in profile, the piercings in her ear glinting in the waning sunlight. Her tattooed, black-tipped fingers were wrapped around the “wheel,” fascinating him with their elegance. Even though the wheel didn’t belong to the car he’d wanted.

  Vale had said they needed something “inconspicuous” in order to “blend in,” and he’d reluctantly agreed. Then she’d said, “Do not, I repeat, do not cloak the car with shadows. Other drivers need to see us, or they’ll crash into us.”

  She’d also insisted he “buckle up,” willingly restricting his movements. When he’d flat-out refused, she’d said, “I’m going to give you a hands-on demonstration about car safety, and when I’m done, you’ll want to curse me, but you’re going to thank me instead.”

  She’d then sped up only to slam on the brakes. After his forehead had introduced itself to the dashboard, he’d decided the seat belt buckle wasn’t so bad, after all. And yes, he had thanked her.

  Vale could have launched him through the windshield, injuring and weakening him, but she hadn’t. The woman confused him, defying his understanding of an opponent and wrecking his infamous control.

  All his life, the words most often used to describe him had been sadistic, barbaric, and emotionless. Somehow, she was peeling away his armor, layer by layer, allowing guilt, regret and sorrow to surface.

  He should be studying the world around him, learning everything. Instead, he continued to examine her, the sight of her fraying more and more of his calm.

  Maybe barbaric still applied.

  Knox wanted to touch her silken skin again, to fist her hair, blending the white strands with the black, wanted to angle her face and claim her lips in a hard, punishing kiss—no more soft and gentle. He wanted to thrust his tongue against hers and discover her taste. He wanted to cup her breasts harder, wanted to knead the giving flesh and roll her nipples between his fingers.

  In that moment, desire ruled him—Vale ruled him, for whoever tempted you enslaved you.

  Never give another person power over you.

  Knox blamed her scent, despite the fact that he’d wanted her before he’d noticed the exotic perfume that lingered on her skin. One inhalation, and he’d frothed with undiluted arousal.

  You froth with undiluted arousal, anyway. He had only to glance at her. As he was doing now...

  Look away. He’d castigated her for being easily distracted, and yet his own concentration was shot.

  It took every ounce of his willpower—victory means freedom—but he finally forced his attention to the terrain. He was instantly transfixed.

  The difference between past and present astounded him. Paved streets had supplanted wild lands filled with trees and bush. There were buildings of every shape and size, towering poles and wires...everywhere.

  On Terra, you weren’t pinned in from every side. There were wide-open spaces, fresh air yours for the taking, and an incomparable caress of warmth from a single sun. Crowds of people strolled along sidewalks, unhampered by the fear of being hunted, unafraid to turn a corner because they were certain someone lay in wait, ready to strike. Vale had once been this carefree, he would bet. But she would never be this way again. Her life had been forever altered, her future set—her death imminent.

  “Question,” she said, and he wondered if she’d noticed his upset and now hoped to redirect his thoughts. “Do we have the power to turn everyday average mortals into immortals?”

  “There are only a handful of ways to impart immortality, and your realm currently offers only one of them. A mortal must slay a combatant.”

  Disappointment caused her shoulders to roll in, and he could guess why. The sick girl, Nola. Ignore the clench in your chest.

  He was becoming used to that clench. “You had better not try to sacrifice your life for hers,” he said.

  “If I thought for a second she’d go for it, I’d do more than try. But she would never hurt me. Not ever, for any reason.”

  Oh, to have such unwavering trust in another person.

  Thoughtful, she asked, “In AW history, has anyone successfully stopped a war?”

  AW... All War. “Never, though many have tried. The High Council is too greedy to forfeit a new world. This one in particular, where resources are abundant. They’ll receive hundreds of thousands of slaves from participating realms as payment. They’ll also receive a tax from Terra. Earth.”

  “What kind of tax?”

  “It’s different for every realm, and depends on what the High Council needs at the time.”

  “Peachy.” She rested an elbow on the driver’s door. “You fight on behalf of your realm. I assume your government—”

  “King.”

  “Well, well. A bad king, judging by the sharpness of your tone. If you win, he’ll rule Earth, not you. So what do you get? What do the other warriors get?”

  “They will save their families, as I mentioned, and save children from enslavement. Perhaps they’ll acquire the respect of their peers.”

  “Child enslavement? Are you kidding? Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  When he said no more, she grumbled, “You left out your prize.”

  “I hope to receive my heart’s greatest desire.” Again he said no more.

  “I used to love mysterious. Now?” She shook her head. “Not so much. But okay, sure, I get the gist. You want something so badly, something I can’t give you, so you can’t be lured to my side.”

  “No. I can’t.” His gaze roved over her, and a stray thought caught him off guard. If anything could change my mind, it’s you.

  His gut churned. Foolish thought. And wrong. So wrong.

  He decided to warn her, just as he’d warned Shiloh—a good man who deserved better than he’d got. Ignore the prickle of guilt. “Have no doubt that I’ll do everything in my power to win this war, Vale. No deed is too despicable.”

  “I believe you,” she said, her tone grave. “Any idea why Ronan came to Colorado? Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but it hardly seems like a hot spot for alien warriors.”

  “Petra hails from a mountain realm, and most combatants seek out locales that best match what they know. She built a camp here, and Ronan followed her.”

  Her gaze darted to him, darted away. “So, you come from an underground society?”

  “Yes. The surface of Iviland was destroyed centuries before my birth, during an other-realm invasion.”

  “There wasn’t an All War back then?”

  “No.” Knox only knew what he’d been taught. “Iviland was invaded by other realms. We won, driving out their armies, but it took years. But then the surface of my world was destroyed, the suns rendered toxic.”

  “Suns...plural?”

  “Three.” He’d seen pictures, each sun a study of magnificence. “The surface of Iviland is still uninhabitable, the underground cities massively overcrowded.”

  “What do you guys eat? Those trees in your bunker are somehow thriving without light, but I can’t imagine there’s enough fruit to feed everyone,” she said.

  “Technological advances gained through All War victories help provide sustainable meals. Also, denizens are selected to move to new realms when they’re won, while still remaining under our king’s rule.”

  “Your king, a man you so clearly despise. How was he selected?”

  “A right of birth.”

  “So there’s no getting rid of him after a term of service. Sucks!”

  Very much so.

  “How many wars have you won?” she asked.

  “
Four.” If he gained his freedom before this one ended, the fifth would be his last. If not, and Ansel had lied to him... His hands fisted.

  “Wow! That’s incredible, Knox.”

  Her awe struck him as appropriate. “I’m not the only Ivilandian to win. We’ve given Ansel twenty-two realms in total.”

  “I don’t think I want to know the number of people you and the others had to kill, or the weapons you’ve acquired.”

  Bitterness turned his heart to stone. “After each war, the king confiscated everything. And if not the king, the High Council.”

  “That’s gotta sting.” Vale gave an exaggerated wince. “You do the work, and the king takes the credit and the prizes.”

  “Tsk, tsk. You’re trying to lure me to your side, despite my assurance that it can’t be done. If you continue down this path, female, your manipulations will only infuriate me.”

  “Female again.” She pretended to gag. “Look. All I’m saying is the High Council sounds like a real suck fest, and I’m pretty sure your king won’t go down in our history books as a dream leader.”

  “None of which affects my determination to win.”

  “How can you be so cruel, condemning another world to such a terrible fate?” Her voice rose, rage dripping from every syllable. “How can you fight to enslave an entire planet?”

  “How can I not? I am but a tool.” A tool wielded by another man. “If I wasn’t here, you’d be facing a different Iviland. He might not be as nice as me.”

  “I. Can’t. Imagine.”

  Again he debated the humiliation of admitting his own enslavement to this beautiful creature. How he was purposely conceived to create “the next great champion,” forced to train from suns rise to suns set in the worst possible conditions, every meal selected for him, meant to strengthen his body and sharpen his mind, every action scrutinized and judged in order to hone his battle skills. How he was only rewarded after he won.

  As a child, he’d been forced to kill other slaves with histories similar to his own. Forced to kill friends—actually compelled to do it, unable to stop himself. The mystical ink in his tattooed bands guaranteed absolute obedience to Ansel, always. It was the same for the other slaves. Many had been commanded to kill him, and when they’d failed, Knox had to make a decision: end their lives before they’d ever tasted the joys of freedom, or let them live, so they could be used as leverage against him later.

  He’d killed, soon becoming little more than an animal, until he was unable—or maybe unwilling—to care about others. Until Minka. His baby girl had changed everything.

  Soon, I’ll avenge her death. Ansel and his horrible family will be dead, and I’ll be free. The citizens of Iviland and Earth will be liberated.

  “After I win, I’ll return,” he said. “I’ll—” No. He couldn’t tell Vale about his plan, shouldn’t give her any leverage to use against him, and wouldn’t risk the High Council learning of his intentions.

  “If you win and come back, don’t bother looking me up. I’ll be dead, remember?” She inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily, reminding him of the times his own emotions had gotten the best of him, before muttering to herself. “I’m a lady, not a land mine. I won’t explode.”

  “Vale—”

  “Nope. You’re done talking.” She reached over to pat his knee, the way he’d sometimes seen mothers to do with their children, only Vale offered no comfort or encouragement, only anger. “You want me dead, so your thoughts are worthless to me.”

  The touch electrified him, causing lightning strikes to zing from the point of contact. It must have electrified her, too. Posture going rigid, she jerked her hand back to the wheel. A hint of her jasmine and dark spice perfume thickened the air, making every breath a test of his strength. Tension overwhelmed him.

  Want her...need her.

  “To survive, you’ll have to slay the other combatants,” he said. “Even the other player from this land. A viking named Erik the Widow Maker. He joined the war the day he created the ice prison.”

  “Like, a real-life ancient Viking?” Fascination saturated her voice, irritating Knox.

  “He’s your enemy. I think. To my knowledge, this is the first time two representatives have fought for a realm. Though it’s possible your entry voided his.” Except, as of this morning, Erik still lived. If he’d been disqualified, Seven would have killed him already, yes? “We’ll find out during the next assembly.”

  The assembly. Knox’s gut churned anew as he imagined Vale participating in the bloodbath that always followed.

  She frowned and rubbed her temple. New memories from Celeste making themselves known?

  “We’ll talk about it another day.” Before he shredded the car into millions of metal ribbons. “Distract me. Tell me about your childhood.”

  “Um, aren’t you the one who repeatedly reminded me that distraction kills?”

  “Enthrall me, then. Take a page from Celeste’s war manual. Try to win me to your side.”

  “Ha! That’s a trick request, and I’m not falling for it. One, you just told me I would never ever lure you to my side, and I would only infuriate you if I tried.”

  Still true—probably. And yet... “I’d like to know about you, Vale. Indulge me.”

  Tremors rocked her. “You want to know about my childhood? Fine. I’ll tell you.” Except, she paused and swallowed, as if she regretted her agreement already. Then she said, “My mom died of a brain aneurysm when I was six.” Her voice began to tremble. “The loss devastated my dad and me. He used to love me, had even doted on me, but suddenly he could barely look at me. I think I reminded him of what he’d lost. He finally took off, leaving me behind.”

  “He abandoned you.” Knox hadn’t left Minka’s side without a fight. A contingent of armed guards had to beat him within an inch of life and drag him away. As soon as he’d revived, he’d done everything in his power to return to his baby.

  “I tracked my father down when I turned eighteen but...” She shrugged, a casual action that belied the hurt she projected.

  “Where is he now? Who cared for you during his absence?”

  Board-stiff, she said, “All right, now I want a subject change.”

  A new clench in his chest, stronger than all the others. What kind of life had this spirited beauty led? One of loneliness and abuse? No wonder she loved and protected Nola so fiercely; she’d become a ray of light in a world of darkness.

  Knox understood. Minka had been his light.

  Though he wanted to demand answers and barrage Vale with more questions, he held his tongue and ignored the compassion she’d roused in him. Ignored the shocking urge to take her into his arms, hold her close and promise all would be well, and he would protect her, always. A lie.

  She was right. He’d issued a trick request. No matter how much he liked her, no matter how much he might wish otherwise, he would kill her the moment she ceased being necessary to his cause. When she killed Celeste, she’d signed her own death warrant.

  “Frick.” The car swerved, and Vale yanked the wheel. “My eyes were watering—because of dust—and I veered a little too far to the left. Sorry.”

  “You’re crying. Because of dust,” he echoed, wishing she would admit the truth, and hating the thought of her unhappiness.

  “Wrong! I don’t cry, like, ever. This girl is made of glass shards, nails and dragon scales.”

  Stubborn female. Strong female.

  “What about your husband?” Knox asked. “When and how did you meet him?” What was his name? Where did he live? What did she like about him? Did she want Knox to kill him with a sword or bare-handed?

  In lieu of answers, she reached out to turn a dial on the dashboard. Fast-paced music spilled through the vehicle, the sound grating his ears.

  For a moment, only a moment, he wished he possessed the ability to read minds, like Emberelle, some
thing he’d never before wanted to do. To be plagued by other people’s thoughts when he could barely handle his own? He would rather be gutted. But he believed he would do just about anything to discover Vale’s secrets.

  Svaney of Frostland possessed a crown that allowed her to see the past, present or future of anyone around her—except herself. Knox might just target her next, and study Vale’s future. And if the wild thrum of music persisted, he was going to ram his fist into the dash.

  He turned the same dial in the opposite direction, and the volume decreased. Better. “We were discussing your husband.”

  “From now on,” Vale said, “Khal Drogo London is a taboo topic, because anytime you mention him, you put on your murder face. You can answer more of my questions instead. What happens if a realm doesn’t want to participate in a war?”

  Khal Drogo London. Hate him. “Realms must pay the High Council an exclusion fee.”

  “Could Earth pay an exclusion fee before a winner is declared and keep our leaders in power?”

  Smart girl. “No. The war had a beginning, and it will have an end. Otherwise, combatants who met their deaths will have fought for nothing.” Not that the High Council cared about combatants. Only the protests from the sovereigns...occasionally.

  “Well, dang.”

  He stroked his jaw and said, “You have a surprisingly cunning mind, Valerina London.”

  “You don’t have to sound so shocked about it, but thank you.” She fluffed her hair, all sass and sweetness. “Hey, maybe I can use my surprisingly cunning mind to get what seems to be the best gig in the galaxy—High Councilwoman.”

  The thought of Vale seated with the other council members disturbed him greatly.

  Steering the car to the right, she said, “I know certain competitors have intrinsic supernatural abilities, while others have supernatural abilities tied to specific weapons. How does your shadow thing work?”

  “I was born with it.” His parents possessed the gift, as well. The very reason they were chosen to spawn him.

  “Can everyone in your world control shadows, then?”

  “Some, but only a rare few can create shadows from nothing and use them to create a whirlwind.” And if those people weren’t already enslaved, they were tattooed with slave bands as soon as they were found out.